


Hello Again, Old Friend

by WhiteBlueJay



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Awkward Flirting, Divorce, Falling In Love, M/M, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Not Canon Compliant, Past Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Slow Burn, Teaching, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-06
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:34:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24566998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhiteBlueJay/pseuds/WhiteBlueJay
Summary: The dream was always different from reality, that's what Harry kept on reminding himself as the years wore on. Faced with an impending divorce and going back to a job that he hated, Harry decided to take a chance on a new teaching opportunity at Hogwarts, hoping that a change of scenery would make his future seem less bleak. But falling in love with the man he used to once hate was not part of the plan.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Severus Snape
Comments: 8
Kudos: 103





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> It has been multiple years since I have read any of the Harry Potter books so I apologize for any universe mistakes in advance. All the grammar and spelling mistakes are mine. Hope you enjoy.

The bustle of the city outside provided constant white noise as Harry's eyes kept on flicking over to the divorce papers laying on the coffee table in front of him. He should have seen this coming, there were many warning signs.

Their marriage fell apart so quickly, it unraveled right before their very eyes. The last couple of years were filled with long work hours and stilted conversations. They had come together under strenuous circumstances, seeking immediate comfort in each other’s presence rather than discussing their future hopes and wishes. And after the end of the war it quickly became apparent how different each of them was, how widely their future goals varied. But they resolved to stay together, trying to hang on to the idea of what their relationship had come to symbolize. But as the years went on, their affection for one another, their infatuation, slowly diminished until all that was left was indifference.

It was Ginny’s idea to take a break, they just needed a little time apart and then they would be as good as new. Even then her words felt empty, said only for the sake of not making it sound so final. Harry couldn’t handle the idea of being by himself in the large house they had built together, so he packed up and moved to a little apartment close to his work. It was best to not be reminded of what could have been.

He continued like that for a year. Each day just as monotonous as the last; always waiting for the other shoe to drop. And now, the physical proof of the end of a ten year relationship laid before him and with it the broken promise of a family. He had been alone before; he had managed alright. Harry was by no means unwelcome in the family; Molly expressed early on that this breakup could not end a kinship that started when he was still a child. She still visited him from time to time, bringing him food, and scolding him for not writing more often. And with each visit Harry would wish that maybe, if he had tried harder earlier on in his marriage, he and Ginny could still be together.

A knock on the door broke Harry out of his reverie. He sighed and got up, hoping that whoever it was waiting on him would finish their business quickly. 

“You sure are a right mess,” Hermione said as soon as her eyes fell on Harry. “How many days has it been since you have last showered?”

Harry shrugged. He was technically on vacation for a week, but he must have lost track of time.

Hermione grimaced as she walked into the flat, which appeared to be in complete disarray. “I know you are going through some hard times right now – which is why I let you mope for as long as you have, but I’m not going to let you keep living like this.” She was carrying bags in both of her hands which Harry soon discovered held much needed groceries. She had anticipated his food stocks to be running low and discovered herself correct in her assumptions when, upon opening some cupboards, only found instant noodles and a few cans of vegetables. Hermione sighed and started unpacking the bags of groceries and some homemade meals that Molly had helpfully supplied.

She had expected this event for several years now; the growing distance between her two friends grew wider and wider with each passing year. When news of them separating had reached her she had resolved to invite Harry over more often to her and Ron’s house, hoping that the kids and their company would provide a good distraction. And this had worked for a time, until the news of the impending divorce reached Ron who in turn told her to ‘leave it be for a little while.’ And she did. But she also knew that Harry would be hesitant to reach out for any help, even if that meant sitting alone at home in his own filth.

“You should have at least written, you know,” Hermione said.

Harry walked over to one of the wobbly dining room chairs and sat down. “I was sure you’d hear the news from Ginny first. There wasn’t a need for me to inform you of what you must have already known.”

“That's not the point,” Hermione argued. “Ron and I are still your friends. I know we’ve all been busy with work and what not, but we worry about you. We want to make sure that you're doing alright.”

“I am alright," Harry answered. "This wasn’t exactly a surprise.”

“But it’s still a major change in your life.”

Harry rubbed his hand across his face. “My life started changing long before this. The paperwork just made it final.”

Hermione took a moment to really look at Harry, noticing how pronounced the dark circles under his eyes were, before saying, “I’m sorry, you know.”

“Nothing to be sorry for,” Harry said. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“It is still an adjustment.”

Harry let out a self-deprecating laugh in agreement. They lapsed into a silence, during which he glanced down at himself and noticed just how much of a mess he appeared to be. The old shirt that he was wearing had leftover grease spots and pit stains on it, his sleep pants that he had worn since god knows when fared no better. His hair, he was sure, was in complete disarray. And he discovered, upon taking a quick whiff of his armpit, he had a bit of a smell. Feeling a little embarrassed, he excused himself to the shower, knowing that Hermione would take no offense at his absence.

After Harry had left Hermione let out a big sigh and put her hands on her hips as she paced around the kitchen. Her friend appeared to be in a real funk; and although she wanted to help, she knew that she wasn’t a miracle worker. This problem would require time and exertion of one’s mind before getting to a better place. Harry certainly had plenty of time now that he wasn’t throwing himself into danger – at least until he went back to work. The exertion of the mind may take a little more effort and she doubted he would be willing to read any of her suggested books.

Sitting down in the chair Harry had vacated, she tried to think of how to help; she could provide nutrition and help clean up the flat, she supposed. And being a willing listener was sure to be therapeutic. But considering her and Ron’s relationship with Ginny she wasn’t sure how much Harry would be willing to divulge. Especially now when, whether consciously or subconsciously, he was pulling away from everybody, trying to deal with everything by himself.

Taking a quick look around and analyzing which piles of clutter and grime needed her immediate attention, Hermione set off to start putting some semblance of order back into Harry’s life. She was in the middle of scrubbing a particularly stubborn dirty plate when Harry walked back into the kitchen, sporting a wet mop of hair and some clean clothes.

“You don’t have to do this,” he said as he tried to take the dish away from Hermione.

She snatched her hands – plate included – away from Harry. “Until this place stops looking like a pig sty I’m not going anywhere. But if you really want to help, go take the garbage out. It smells like it’s been in here for weeks.”

Harry wordlessly complied as Hermione continued her ministrations. After returning from his task he was quickly assigned to sweep the floors while Hermione took her time going through the different rooms of the apartment, collecting dirty articles of clothing.

Upon finding them both concentrating their efforts in the same room again, Hermione tried to find a topic of discussion not concerning the giant elephant in the room. “I received a letter from Professor McGonagall the other day. She said they are going to be looking for a replacement for the defense against the dark arts teaching position for the following year.”

“Why are they needing a replacement?” Harry asked as he continued sweeping.

Hermione finished tugging the pillowcases off the pillows on the bed and threw them in the hamper along with the sheets. “Apparently, the current professor had gotten invited to teach over in one of the American schools; she said they made him an offer he could not refuse. At least he had the courtesy of staying until the end of the year and didn’t just leave.”

“At least he didn’t die,” Harry commented.

“Yes and, by our standards, held that position for a record amount of time.”

Harry continued sweeping, all the while thinking about the new information he had just learned. An idea began to form, a rather dangerous one, but he willed it into the back of his mind before its formation could finish forming.

Meanwhile, Hermione had finished collecting all the dirty laundry strewn about the flat and made her way over to the modified washing machine. After casting a quick spell to get the washing started, she headed over to the living room to continue with de-cluttering.

She was no stranger to Harry’s waning passion toward being an auror; during a rather alcohol fueled family Christmas he had confided his growing disappointment with his job. A combination of resentful wizards and witches and coworkers who believed him to not have worked hard for his position had made his employment less than enjoyable. This confession had caused great surprise initially but looking back she realized that Harry’s behavior over the past several years displayed the signs and symptoms of career dissatisfaction. She had tried to hint at the idea of changing his situation and trying something new, but that was met with a steady refusal and an end to the conversation. Although she had respected Harry’s wishes and not brought up the subject again it was still on her mind during her correspondence with Professor McGonagall.

The news of the open position had hastened Hermione’s plan to visit Harry, in the hopes that talking about it would be enough of a hint. She knew that Harry’s lack of teaching experience could potentially be a problem, but she hoped that his work as an auror would overcome his other deficiencies - this was all assuming that Harry would even be interested in teaching. Ultimately, she hoped that this visit would sow the idea in his mind, and as much as it pained her to acknowledge, it was now out of her hands.

After deeming the living room to be in a decently presentable state Hermione set off back into the kitchen to get some food ready for both herself and Harry. She decided to heat up the vegetable soup that Molly had prepared earlier in the day and went about getting it warmed up. Harry, having finished with his chore, came into the kitchen and sat back down at the table.

“Have you heard from Ginny?” he asked after sitting some time in silence.

Hermione stopped stirring for a moment before continuing. “She’s doing fine, I think. According to her last letter she is living in Paris right now.”

“That suits her,” Harry replied, remembering how much she had loved vacationing there every chance she had. After one of such vacations she had expressed interest in one day settling down there or some other similar place in Europe. But Harry had pretended not to get the hint and had claimed that there was nothing wrong with where they were living.

“She worries about you, you know. All her letters always ask about how you’re doing and whatnot.”

“I know,” Harry replied, “She still sometimes writes to me.”

“But you don’t answer,” Hermione concluded. She reached up in one of the cabinets to retrieve a couple of bowls.

“I figured she’d get her questions answered by everybody else in the family,” he answered as he got up to get the spoons.

“Except getting you to talk to us anymore is like pulling teeth. It’s hard to talk about how you are doing when even we don’t know that information,” she said as she filled the bowls with soup.

Harry stayed silent as he accepted his bowl from Hermione and took it over to the table.

“Molly is planning on having a family dinner this Saturday,” she stated after they had both sat down and dug into their soup. “She plans on writing to you soon, and I know she will threaten you if you don’t show up again.”

“I’ll be there,” he answered, hoping that he wouldn't lose the courage to make an appearance at the last second.

“Good.” After a couple of minutes of eating in silence Hermione continued. “Everybody misses you. Rose and Hugo are always asking why you don’t come around anymore.”

“I miss them too. I’ll see if I can’t come by later this week.”

“They’ll like that,” Hermione said and let them both lapse back into a silence.

*

Harry let out a long sigh of relief when he was finally left alone again. Having the company of his friend helped – it got him to accomplish more in one day than he had in the past week. But his conversations with Hermione had left him feeling more pensive than he was before; this time his reflection concerned more than his broken marriage. He had been feeling unfulfilled and unhappy for a long time now and not all of it had to do with his relationship with Ginny. A boy’s dream of what the work of an auror was and the reality were a harsh contrast when compared to one another. But Harry had refused to think of any other options. This was what his father had done, it was a part of his legacy. As his son, it felt only right to continue in his footsteps.

But with each passing year Harry had found himself incessantly tired, he was less and less invested in his work. The feeling of job well done did not strike the same level of satisfaction as it once did. The days grew more and more monotonous as the witches and wizards he dealt with grew more and more resentful. Getting up each morning to go to work left him feeling more fatigued than coming home did.

And now here he was, fast approaching thirty, burnt out, and a broken marriage to show what his post war years had brought.

Harry rubbed his face in defeat. Hermione was right, there was no use in getting hung up on the past - even a time-turner couldn’t fix this mess at this point. He needed write to Professor McGonagall and see if he had a chance at getting that position. He had an idea of what his odds were; after all, he didn’t necessarily have all the qualifications to teach. And there was a possibility that they already had someone else in mind. But rejection was the worst outcome of this situation, and the need for change far outweighed the fear of being incompetent.

Sighing, he got up and went in search of some parchment and a quill. It was best to get it over with as quickly as possible before he changed his mind.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry is invited back to Hogwarts for an interview and encounters some old faces.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Buckle up, this ride is about to get longer than anticipated.

After writing to Professor McGonagall, Harry had tried to get a better hold of himself by taking a shower and putting on a fresh set of clothes. Getting off the couch was always the hardest part, his body often felt lethargic as if it were made of lead. Hermione’s visit didn’t magically cure him, there were still plenty of dark days that made him never want to leave his bed. But in between all the darkness there were times that he felt mostly okay, the dark clouds weren’t as overbearing, his mind stayed fairly calm.

The feeling of dread grew stronger and stronger the closer he got to the end of his so called vacation; and it was during one of these clear headed moments that he decided to resign from his auror position.

The relief that followed was short lived, and after a week of doing nothing he was back to feeling anxious. The flat had been cleaned until it was spotless, he even organized each pile of clutter that had been strewn about the different rooms. He had nothing to do while the world kept on living.

He could travel, he thought; explore the countryside or visit a different continent. But his friends were busy with their own domestic problems and the prospect of going by himself brought little excitement. He needed to find something to do, a new hobby or volunteer his time somewhere – he needed to find his purpose in life again.

An answer to his letter brought his racing thoughts to a halt, momentarily, and made him think that maybe he did not need to search for the meaning of life again. The reply did not contain any concrete promises, which he was not expecting in the first place, but there was an invitation to come visit the school – an invitation that he immediately accepted.

*

Almost nothing had changed since his absence, Harry thought as he made his way through the castle with Professor McGonagall. Now that he was here, he realized how much he missed the confusing hallways and nosy paintings. Although he had to admit, he didn’t know how much of that had to do with comparing Hogwarts to his current place of living and how much was genuine nostalgia – there were plenty of bad memories as there were good ones.

“I must confess,” Professor McGonagall said as they made their way to the headmaster’s office, “I was surprised when I first received your letter; I thought for sure you had happily settled at the ministry. If I remember correctly, your interests rarely lay anywhere but the auror career.”

“I thought the same for a long time,” Harry answered. “Never pictured myself doing anything different, but I’m sure I’m not the first person to have a change of heart.”

“No and I don’t suppose you will be the last either,” she agreed.

“I know that you cannot promise me anything, and understandably so, but I wanted to say thank you for giving me this chance.”

“Your experience has value, Harry; a person can learn a lot from their line of work. Merlin knows we’ve had plenty of professors less qualified than you teaching at this school. Not having worked with students and your role in the war may pose some challenges, but you would always have a helping hand if needed. Now off you go,” she said as they stopped in front of the statue leading to the headmaster’s office. 

Harry smiled in response as Professor McGonagall uttered the password.

*

Harry made his way into the office, exchanging greetings with several rather talkative paintings along the way. He stopped a few feet away from the desk and observed the current headmaster busy working on a letter while a nosy Dumbledore watched over his back. 

Finally noticing the presence of an additional person in the room, the old headmaster in the painting looked up and smiled warmly. “Ah, Harry, you’ve finally made it.”

Snape glanced up before going back to what he was working on. “Mr. Potter.”

“Hello, Professor Snape. Professor Dumbledore.” Harry remained in his spot, unsure whether to take a seat or stay where he was at. He was partially distracted by the changes, or the lack there of, in the man sitting in front of him. The harsh appearance that had antagonized and protected him throughout his student years was still present in its expressive glory, but the post war years had taken some of the edge off. He couldn’t pinpoint exactly what made that difference, whether it was the less severe frown or more relaxed posture, maybe it was the glare without real heat that was currently pointed in his direction.

“Are you planning on standing here all day or are you going to sit down?” Snape asked as he dipped his quill in the ink well and went back to writing. Harry smiled inwardly to himself as he took a seat in the chair opposite of the desk. He refrained from speaking, waiting for the other man to finish whatever it was that he was working on, but his decision to be silent did not extend to the other spectators in the room.

“You don’t visit very often. How long has it been since we’ve seen each other last?” Dumbledore’s portrait asked.

“Close to a decade, I think,” Harry answered.

“A decade,” the painting repeated thoughtfully. “The passage of time is so intriguing; it seems only yesterday that I was put up in this room and in the blink of an eye ten years have passed. So little changes around here, you see. Some new faces pass these walls now and again, but they never stay for long. Severus is about the only constant to help judge the time, but even he barely ever changes enough for me to notice.”

“There is a calendar available for your viewing whenever you wish, all you need to do is look at it,” Snape muttered without looking up from his work. Harry looked over to the intricately designed clock that told everything from the time and year to the position of the stars in the sky located on a table next to one of the overflowing bookcases. 

The painting sighed dramatically. “How are you doing these days, my boy?”

“I am doing alright,” Harry replied. “Could be doing worse, I guess.”

“I hear you have become an auror.”

Harry nodded. “I did.”

“Following in your father’s footsteps – I always did believe that it was the perfect job for you. Your bravery and need for justice-”

Snape let out a long breath and put his quill down as he threw a glare at the painting behind him before turning back to face Harry. “Of all the applications for this cursed position, I never expected yours to be among them. What possessed you to do this?” he asked, his voice containing only curiosity.

Harry scratched the back of his head. “Well, I wouldn’t say that it was necessarily a planned career move,” he admitted. “And I don’t think ‘on a whim’ would be a good enough explanation. But certain life circumstances made this position seem much more appealing than what I was doing.”

Snape openly stared at him. “You are a well-to-do auror with the ministry, I somehow doubt that teaching children would be a more appealing prospect.”

“Technically, I _was_ an auror – I resigned from my position last week.”

“Nevertheless, teaching is not exactly prestigious, and the castle rooms are not equal to that of a manor. Your quality of life may worsen.”

“I think that you’re wrong. If anything, my quality of life would improve.” Snape raised an eyebrow. “Well, for starters, I don’t live in a manor – haven’t for a long time, in fact. All my years living in cramped spaces or sharing rooms with other people have made me not want to have such a large space to myself, it felt too empty. And I’ve grown tired of constant chaos, I think this position will bring some sense of normalcy back into my life,” Harry explained.

“You of all people should remember how _routine_ your school days were.”

“Yeah, but my school days were filled with a violence-crazed wizard who was hellbent on killing me. The bounty on my head isn’t nearly as high as it used to be, and mishaps during lessons are a long way away from discovering underground crime rings.” Harry smiled at Snape’s unamused look. “I’m sure you’ve read about my personal drama.”

“I generally don’t waste my time reading nonsense articles, but gossip does travel around this castle like wildfire – ignoring it is impossible.”

“I’m so sorry to hear about your divorce, Harry,” Dumbledore spoke up.

“Thank you, Professor,” Harry said awkwardly. “But my point is, for the past several years my life has felt as if it was undergoing a constant change when it should have been stable. What I thought I had wanted either didn’t work out or lead me to the conclusion that it wasn’t the right choice for me.”

“Let me guess, your chosen field of work did not meet your expectations.”

“Not exactly,” Harry disagreed. “I did enjoy different parts of my job; my coworkers were generally friendly. I wasn’t under the illusion that the entire wizarding community liked me, but constant hostility does wear a person out.”

“Then you shouldn’t be under the illusion that the same won’t happen here. I am sure you are aware that there is almost an entire house that is in some way shape or form related to a death eater.”

“Yes, I realize that.”

“And that you would still encounter that same hostility that you, so desperately, want to get away from, but instead of the perpetrators being adults they would be students, who you are not allowed to hex.”

The idealistic part of him wanted to lash out and prove that the students would not be so heavily under the influence of their family as to act violently toward Harry, not when there were so many eyes watching them. But the realistic part of him knew how strong familial loyalty could be, and rebellious acts did not have to be flagrant and violent to wreak havoc.

“Your status and your role, no matter how much you don’t want to think about it, would play a large part in animosity between two of the four houses. The Gryffindors would fail to see a fault with you and the majority of the Slytherins would only think of how you tore their families apart. You have only worked with adults; how would you even go about a child or adolescent who only wants to antagonize you?”

Harry stayed silent. His old professor was right, of course, there would be plenty of students who wouldn’t even want to be in his presence, not to mention listening to whatever it was he was trying to teach.

The truth was Harry didn’t know how he would handle such a situation. His lack of experience and general lack of planning did not win any points in his favor probably. Then again, he did apply on a whim and didn’t really think that he would be picked for the position. Maybe it was the correspondence with Professor McGonagall, or the uplifting speech Hermione gave the last time she had come over, but for a moment there Harry had thought that he would not be turned away. However, the longer Professor Snape went on about his short comings the more Harry thought that he was going to be rejected. It was probably for the best, Harry thought.

Snape leaned back in his chair. “I propose a trial run.”

“A trial run,” Harry repeated dumbly.

“Yes, to evaluate how adequate you are at controlling unruly students.”

Harry sat up straighter. “How long would this trial run last?”

“If you can go a full year without maiming a student or getting maimed by one while proving that they have managed to learn something useful you will be hired as a permanent professor. But if by the end of the school year either I or any of the faculty members believe that the students are not receiving the proper education in the subject then you will be free to find another routine to follow. Does that sound satisfactory to you?”

Harry stuttered out an agreement, reeling from not being flat out told no.

“Good. I will send you more information about getting settled and lesson planning in the upcoming month, if you have any questions feel free to contact either Minerva or myself,” Snape said as he picked his quill back up and went back to his writing.

Harry took that as a dismissal and slowly stood up from his chair. “Thank you, Professor Snape, I really appreciate this.” He hesitated just as he was about to start heading toward the door. “May I ask one question?” Snape paused looked back up at Harry. “Why?”

“You’ll have to be more specific than that.”

“Why are you giving me this opportunity?” Harry elaborated.

“While you lack teaching experience you more than make up for it in your knowledge of the subject. You became quite proficient in defense against the dark arts during the war and you only added to those skills through your work as an auror – I believe you have a thorough understanding of the subject. But the potential conflicts that could arise between the you and the students could be problematic, there is also the possibility that you may want to leave by your own volition. This will provide a safety net should your position here fall through.”

“Now, unless you have any other immediate questions that need to be answered right now please feel free to leave, there are several things I need to get done by today.”

Harry allowed himself to smile and shook his head. “Goodbye, professor.”

“Goodbye, Mr. Potter.”

Harry nodded to Dumbledore, who bid his own enthusiastic farewell, before making his way out of the office and heading back home. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter will explore more of Snape’s point of view and brief history of what happened after the war. Any and every mistake is mine. I hope you enjoyed and thank you for reading.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Severus has a trip down memory lane.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for everybody's patience. All mistakes are mine. Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoy.

“It sure was nice to see him again,” Dumbledore said after Harry had left the room. “I’m glad you have decided to give him a chance.”

Severus paused writing for a moment. “I meant what I said earlier. He’s more competent than the useless, spying vultures the ministry keeps trying to send over.” And I owe him for all his help, he thought to himself.

Pushing those thoughts aside, Severus tried to return to his work while the old coots surrounding him started avidly discussing the chosen one’s visit. He took a deep breath in an effort to keep himself calm. Yelling at paintings was not useful no matter how irritating they were, it was like trying to argue with a drunkard – utterly pointless. He just needed to focus and ignore all the racket. 

It continued this way for half an hour until Severus finally lost his patience and snapped at everybody to quiet down. After some grumbling and shuffling around the noise came down to its usual volume, but Severus still found himself too distracted to work. He sighed and rubbed at his temples before getting up and heading out for the day. It was a shame to waste his time, but there was no use of him trying to force productivity when so much was on his mind.

The thoughts he had pushed aside in the office came swirling back as he made his way down to his rooms.

His last conversation with Voldemort, and the subsequent interaction with Nagini, had led Severus to believe that he was a dead man. This was the fate he had come to accept long before that fateful day – it was the cleanest way to end his miserable life.

But he didn’t die.

He woke up confused to a pain riddled body in a sterile, unknown environment. His questions fell on the deaf ears of healers who only ever came in to pour drought after drought down his throat. Whatever it was they were giving him often put him right back into a dreamless slumber.

Soon enough, though, his condition improved enough to no longer need sedation. And as much as he relished in finally having a clear mind, he suddenly wished for the blissful unawareness of sleep.

As far as anybody knew, he had been one of the Death Eaters in Voldemort’s inner circle, a ruthless killer who destroyed countless lives. He would, no doubt, be dragged through a joke of a trial only to be condemned to death or left to rot in Azkaban for the rest of his life.

He was not a religious man by any stretch of imagination, but he found himself praying to whatever higher power that would listen. He prayed to be spared of the living nightmare of going slowly insane. He prayed for the quick release of death.

But fate was never kind to him.

As soon as he was fit enough not to die on the stand, he was transferred to a prison to await his trial. Thankfully, having been important and hated enough, he did not have to wait long for the circus to begin. But in between the public humiliation and flying accusations, much of his time was still spent in isolation.

He was in constant reflection, mulling over every single one of his mistakes. He thought of how he could have done everything differently, and how thinking about that was a useless waste of his time. But then again, time was all he had now.

Unless they decided to take him out of his misery. 

But, once again, Severus was baffled by the turn of events.

He was suddenly released into the custody of an old colleague and was to remain in her care for the rest of the trial. When she had come to collect him, Severus had almost refused to go, thinking that he had finally started to lose his mind.

Minerva had stood in the open doorway of the cell and had asked, “What have you got to lose?”

Nothing, he had thought. Nothing and everything.

In the end, he had decided to come along, even if it was not real at least now he had company.

\--

_He slowly swam back into consciousness and realized that he was not alone. Taking a quick look to assess his surrounding he realized that he was in his old bed in the Hogwarts dungeons. Severus frowned, that certainly had not helped him decipher whether whatever his mind had been conjuring was real or just a figment of his decaying imagination._

_The other presence in the room turned out to be an auror who was sitting in one of the chairs close to the door. The wizard had been engrossed in a book but looked up when Severus started trying to sit up in the bed. Severus stopped his movement and stared back at the young man. Neither one said anything as they maintained their eye contact, but finally Severus cleared his throat and asked if it was possible to summon Minerva._

_The wizard complied and soon enough Minerva was walking through the door with three cups of tea trailing close after her. She sent one of the cups over to the auror, dismissing him to the living room in the process, before taking a seat in the vacated spot._

_“How are you feeling?” she inquired, taking a sip of her tea._

_Severus grumbled out a reply, snatching the third cup of tea that had gently floated over to his bedside. He was tired. He was tired and frustrated and confused. His strength had yet to fully return to him and his body ached constantly. When he was awake, he was impatiently waiting for any news of his trial, while his nights were plagued by nightmares that were slowly trying to integrate themselves into his reality._

_But Severus had no desire to discuss the stability of his mental health with a pair of overeager ears so close by, so he decided to stick to a safer subject. “Why am I here?” he asked._

_“It was part of the plea deal,” Minerva explained. “I’m not sure if you knew, but Harry has intervened on your behalf and arranged for you to spend the rest of the trial under house arrest in your quarters.”_

_Severus froze mid sip. “No, I was not aware of that.”_

_Minerva nodded in understanding before continuing. “He demanded your acquittal on the account of you being a spy for the order.”_

_“And how is he planning to prove that?”_

_She hesitated before answering. “With the memories you gave him during the Final Battle.”_

_A stab of anger rushed through his body, but he held himself back. “I suppose I don’t have a say in whether they are used or not.”_

_Minerva shook her head. “They have already been viewed by the Minister of Magic, tomorrow they will be shown during court.”_

_It took all his willpower not to voice his dissatisfaction at this turn of events. Trust Potter to want to keep being the savior even after the war._

_“It’s for your own benefit, Severus,” Minerva added when she noticed his frown growing deeper._

_“The minds of most of the counsel and judges have already been made up, if they want to throw me in Azkaban, they will do it with or without those memories. All he has managed to do is expose me to people who have no business knowing the details of my life.”_

_“You are being irrational; your memories have more sway than you think.”_

_He scoffed. “This meddling is a waste of his time.”_

_“If I didn’t know any better, I would think that you wanted to rot in prison for the rest of your life.”_

_“It would at least save me the trouble of the outside world,” he retorted. “Even if he does succeed, all he will manage to do is cause me more grief and complications. I have no doubt of being shunned by the wizarding society, and with nothing to my name I will be forced to resort to begging to provide for myself.”_

_“Put your fears to rest, Severus. You still have plenty of allies among the people working in this school. You do not have to worry about becoming destitute.”_

_Allies. Severus sneered. “These supposed allies never trusted me to begin with,” he counteracted._

_“They trust you more than you think – there had to be a unanimous agreement for letting you come back into the castle.”_

_“And what am I meant to do here? Should I stare at the walls until I am blind, or should I take up a hobby?”_

_“You can recuperate,” Minerva answered in an exasperated tone. “You are still healing from your injuries. Take the time you have been given to get your strength back.”_

_“So that I can get my bearings and stabilize my sanity before I am once again put away in prison?” Severus laughed humorlessly._

_“I am certain it will not come to that,” Minerva reassured him. “But even if it does, the least you could do is enjoy the comfort of your bed while you can.”_

_Severus scoffed but did not say anything more, choosing instead to continue drinking his tea. He half-heartedly listened as Minerva recounted the events of the Final Battle, his mind was still occupied by this unexpected turn of events._

_The anger and humiliation from his memories being so publicly examined still simmered under his skin, his past prejudices against Potter came back at full strength. Severus had very little left of value in his life – those memories were one of the few precious things left._

_Minerva left after finishing her tea and reminding him to rest. The auror returned immediately after Minerva’s departure, sitting down before opening his book again. After throwing a quick glance at Severus, he began to read._

\--

His case had concluded the following day, and just like Minerva had predicted, he was acquitted of all charges.

He was a free man again.

The verdict had brought some semblance of relief at not having to go to Azkaban, but it had also allowed him to do something he never thought he was allowed to do – look forward to the future. It was such a foreign concept that it had left Severus feeling as if he was stuck in a room too large for his body. But even with a new horizon opening up, he still found himself struggling with what to do next.

Just as Hogwarts had served as his home during his darkest days, it continued being his home in this new era of life.

His body and mind improved with each day, growing stronger with the support of the people around him. The nightmares still plagued him from time to time, but their frequency and intensity diminished. 

The transition back into the headmaster role was surprisingly uncomplicated, it happened shortly after he became well enough to walk around the castle grounds without needing a rest. Minerva had acted as the interim headmaster during the trials, but she expressed dissatisfaction with the bureaucratic side of teaching. Severus felt hesitant to return to such a high profile position, he was sure there were parents and students alike apprehensive of him residing in the castle let alone being the figurative head of it.

His reintegration did create friction, but not enough to lead to a public outcry. Minerva liked to point out to him that he wasn’t the only one at Hogwarts with such close ties to Voldemort. It would be hardly beneficial to kick out half the Slytherin house.

As the years passed, the commotion of the war quieted down and life slowly stabilized. The only excitement or break from normal came from the occasional spell mishap or potion’s class explosion, nothing big enough to shake the school. He supposed he should have been thankful that he only _now_ had to find a replacement for a position that one time was considered cursed, that spot was filled for two thirds of a decade.

He was genuinely surprised to hear that Harry had shown interest in the position, he never took him to be the teaching sort. But then again, Severus wasn’t much of a teaching sort either. He had not lied when he said that he believed Potter to understand Defense Against the Dark Arts, his experience as an auror had proven him to be sufficient.

Potter had aged since he had last seen him, which wasn’t that unexpected considering they last saw one another during the Final Battle. Severus had, of course, seen clippings of him throughout the years in various newspapers and tabloids, but it still struck a different chord seeing him in person. He had physically looked older; his hair had started growing some greys and his face had slowly started to accumulate the beginnings of wrinkles.

Maybe it was the residual guilt and affection for Lilly, or maybe gratefulness for saving Severus from Azkaban. Whatever his reasoning was, he refused to acknowledge it to anyone, living or painting; there was no telling how quickly that bit of information would spread, especially considering there was nobody in his office that could keep their mouth shut. 

Severus was still deep in thought when finally got to his rooms in the dungeon. Muttering the password to the painting, he made his way inside and went about getting ready for an uneventful evening that would be joined by solitude.

By this point he had accepted that there would be no companion to share a life with. He only ever allowed himself the rare pleasure of one night stands, never waiting for the morning to see if the other party was interested in pursuing anything more.

What did he even have to offer, especially now? He was a disgraced Death Eater with a quick temper and an irritable personality. He had been frequently referred to as ugly in his youth, it was hard to imagine that aging had improved his looks any. He was rarely emotionally available to the people he called his friend – who would want that in a partner?

He had once wanted that kind of life so badly. He had wanted it all – the companionship, a family perhaps. Someone to love and to cherish who would return the sentiment. But that was not the life for him, he had committed too many sins to deserve it.

Mentally shaking himself out of this pity party, Severus picked up a book from the side table by the couch and started to read. It was best not to revisit these thoughts, there was no use on dwelling on what could have been.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be focusing on Harry moving back to Hogwarts. 
> 
> Did I mention this is a slow burn? Yeah. 
> 
> Thank you for reading.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First week of school.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your patience, I promise I haven't forgotten this story. This chapter got delayed partially because I wasn't happy with where it was going, so I ended up rewriting it a few times. The plot keeps evolving in my head and it's taking longer to translate onto paper/word document.
> 
> Like usual all mistakes are mine. Thank you so much for reading. Hope you enjoy.

What the hell had he gotten himself into, Harry thought as he dropped his head into his hands. He rubbed at his temples, trying to will the tension away. The school day had come to an end and he was finally alone in his classroom, but that didn’t stop his thoughts from raging on and replaying the events of this past week on a loop.

His students had met him with either an air of awe and amazement or distrust and anger. Neither group did a good job at hiding away their feelings, the latter of which showed theirs through various acts of hostility and defiance.

_Harry paused mid sentence, unable to ignore the snickering and whispering any longer. His current class consisted of second year Hufflepuffs and Slytherins, who were well behaved for the most part, save for a certain group of students._

_“Please refrain from talking during class time. I don’t want to start taking points away so soon in the semester,” Harry stated, throwing what he hoped to be a stern look toward the back of the classroom where most of the noise was coming from._

_One of the Slytherin boys scoffed. “Why does it matter? You’re going to take class points away from us anyway.”_

_Holding back an exasperated sigh he replied, “If a student breaks a rule, I will deduct points from them no matter what house they belong to. I don’t hold any house above the other.”_

_“Yeah, right,” the boy grumbled._

_“It’s not like we’re learning anything new anyway,” a girl sitting next to him added in a bored tone._

_“I’m sorry?”_

_The girl lifted her chin, and with a condescendingly polite smile replied, “We’re not learning anything new,_ professor _. You’re just repeating what we went over last year.”_

_“I’m repeating this information as a reminder,” Harry explained. “It is easy to forget things over summer break, I wanted us all to be on the same page before we move on to new material.”_

_“Well, not all of us are careless enough to forget everything we’ve learned over a summer break. And for those of us that_ still remember _what we learned - this class is a waste of our time.”_

_The student’s arrogance bore too much resemblance to a certain professor. And much like then, he had to will down the reactive flash of anger that threatened to overtake his response. Harry instead took a steadying breath and replied, “Well, you may think that this class is a waste of time, but you need to consider your classmates, too. It would be unfair to take their learning opportunity away from them. Please refrain from interrupting again, otherwise I will start taking points away.”_

_His statement was answered with muted grumbling, scoffing, and one particularly exaggerated eye roll; but Harry chose to ignore it and went on with his lesson._

Aside from the outright defiance from students in just about every year, Harry had been on the receiving end of mostly harmless pranks. They hit randomly throughout the day, the latest one occurring just this morning – this one involved his hand becoming stuck to every object on his desk, including said desk. 

But just because the pranks were harmless didn’t mean that they weren’t annoying, especially when Harry had reached the end of the week with no reprieve. He had done his best to ignore them whenever possible or laughing them off if he was in the presence of other students or professors. Hopefully, they would stop soon enough. It couldn’t go on forever, surely the culprits would get bored of his lack of outward anger.

He frowned, tapping his fingers against a small pile of homework he had yet to give out.

“It’s your first week teaching and you’re already wallowing in your own self-despair.” 

Harry jerked his head up to find the current headmaster standing in the doorway with his arms crossed. “Good evening, professor.”

Snape hummed, assessing him with an unreadable gaze that left Harry feeling on edge. “Come along,” he said as he turned around, not checking whether Harry was following him or not.

Harry sighed and hurried to catch up with Snape’s billowing robes. They made their way through the castle in relative silence, and soon enough Harry found them both inside the Headmaster’s office.

He walked over to one of the windows, taking note of the setting sun, before wondering over to one of the many bookshelves in the room, glancing at the titles, but being too distracted to actually read them. This was it. He hadn’t even made it a full school year. 

“Do you want sugar?”

Harry was startled out of his thoughts. “I’m sorry?”

The older man let out an impatient sigh. “Do you want sugar in your tea – yes or no? It’s a simple question. And for Merlin’s sake, Potter, sit down before you wear a path in the floor.” Harry flushed as he came to a stop and noticed that he had circled back to the window again.

“Oh, uh, no, thank you,” he answered. He watched as two cups of tea were poured, one receiving two cubes of sugar and the other remaining plain. Harry’s mouth quirked upward at the idea of Snape enjoying something sweet. Maybe he had a sweet tooth. Now that he thought about it, there was very little he knew about Snape that didn’t directly apply to the school or the war. But before his mind could run away with more speculations a cup of tea was placed into his hands.

“I’ve heard that you’ve had a run in with some students already, all belonging to the Slytherin house no less,” he stated. “Isn’t it a little early to be stirring up trouble?”

Harry muttered his thanks and took a sip. “I wouldn’t call it trouble, exactly.”

“Then what would you call it? A mutiny perhaps?”

“Not a mutiny, no.”

“You’re right, those little _tricks_ they’ve been playing on you were mere skirmishes,” he drawled. “Tell me, Potter, are they focusing on property damage or are they targeting your person? Perhaps it’s a combination of both.” 

He knew Snape was trying to bait him - old habits die hard - but Harry refused to get flustered. He was determined to not let the conversation end in an argument. “Nothing harmful has happened to me or any other student.”

“Are you waiting until it does?”

“Well, no, but nothing truly malicious has happened – none of the pranks were meant to actually harm me.”

“Your inability to comprehend a pattern, after spending all those years as an auror, no less, astonishes me. Let me remind you of an adolescent mindset – they constantly try to push boundaries, and they look at their peers to get an idea of what they can get away with. When they see willful disobedience go unpunished it shows them that they don’t have to take you seriously, no matter your _previous reputation._ Tell me, are you being deliberately dense of your surroundings? _”_ His voice was laced with condescension, making Harry feel as if he were a child again. 

Harry clenched his jaw. “I am not being deliberately dense. There is nothing wrong with trying to be considerate of their situation.” He felt his control slipping, he thought that they had moved past these kinds of confrontations. “You warned me yourself of their feelings toward me, and I am fully aware of why they may hate me. I am trying to prove to them that I am not the person they think I am – is that so bad?” 

“You are testing my patience, Potter.”

“I think the students involved are frustrated and-”

“The people who followed Voldemort started out being frustrated – and we both know what happened with that.”

Harry glared. “With all due respect, professor, don’t you think that comparison is a little farfetched? These students are children and-”

“And you were a child during a war, or did you forget that?”

“No, but I-”

“Then you personally know that a child can be influenced by just about anything – especially when they are surrounded by people who only have vengeance on their mind. The war was not that long ago, and any witch or wizard who suffered because of its resolution will not be forgetting it any time soon. You should know these things. Why are you being so naïve?”

Harry bit back an angry retort and looked down at his cup. “I am not being purposefully naïve, sir. The students are expecting me to punish them as a whole house – I don’t want to play into their expectations.”

“So, what is your plan?” Snape asked. Harry could feel his dark eyes boring into him.

“My plan for what?”

“Your plan of action, Potter. What are you going to do? How are you going to discipline? I do not wish to keep repeating myself” 

Harry scratched at his scar. “I don’t know,” he replied. “I think I am truly at a loss with this one.” He mindlessly traced his fingers around the teacup in his hands. “I still don’t know who’s behind the pranking, and I can’t punish a whole house for something I have no proof of.”

“You can punish them for their disobedience.”

“I suppose.”

“You suppose? Don’t tell me that you plan on ignoring that kind of behavior.”

Harry took a sip of his tea. “I’ll ask them to stop,” he mumbled, smirking at Snape’s flabbergasted look.

Snape muttered a curse under his breath. “For the love of – Potter, you have to reprimand them if they break the rules.”

“I will, I promise. I just need to earn their trust-”

“Trust has nothing to do with this. It didn’t stop you or your friends from breaking the rules. And it didn’t stop me from taking points away from your house or giving you detention.”

Harry snorted. Snape was right, of course, most of Harry’s school life was spent distrusting everything about the other man. He couldn’t count on how many occasions he considered him to be a prime suspect. And although there were moments where Snape was downright nasty and antagonistic towards him, he still did his best to keep Harry safe.

_He kept you safe out of guilt_ , Harry’s mind supplied.

“Are you even listening to me?”

Harry shook himself out of his thoughts and sheepishly replied, “I’m sorry.”

Snape tapped his fingers against his teacup while leveling Harry with a glare. “What is the point of me giving you advice if you plan on ignoring it?”

“No, I didn’t mean to ignore you, I promise. I was just…held up in my thoughts.”

“I’m sure,” the other man replied dryly before rolling his eyes and continuing, “As I was saying before, as an instructor, it is your responsibility to provide the best education to your students without showing prejudice.”

Harry couldn’t help but laugh at that statement, which he tried to cover up with a cough - an answering glare told him that his masking was unsuccessful. Snape couldn’t hide his hatred for Gryffindors during the entirety of his school years, Harry didn’t even think he tried. But, nevertheless, he resolved to listen to Snape’s opinion and advice, he’d take whatever help he could get.

Their conversation lasted well into the evening; it was filled with teaching strategies and the occasional anecdote, namely instances of Harry and his friends getting away unnoticed. This had led to Snape complaining of certain professors being swayed too much by the trio’s plight.

“I don’t care what your motive was. You being the _golden boy_ did not make you unique,” Snape had replied with a sneer.

Surprisingly, Harry had not gotten angry like he normally would have when confronted with such aggression. The differences in body language were so minute, his voice still sounding as dry and accusing as ever. But something about the tilt of Snape’s frown and a lack of actual burning ire behind the glaring made Harry let the comments go.

They fell into a comfortable silence; each being occupied with their own thoughts as the noise of the room swirled about them. The paintings were rather quiet at this hour, with half of the occupants appearing to be napping – a certain nosy headmaster included.

Harry glanced up when he felt the prickly sensation of being watched, but he only found Snape shuffling papers around the desk. The other man paused, looked up at Harry, and arched an eyebrow. Harry coughed awkwardly and looked away, realizing that he must have been staring.

“Well, I think I’m going to go,” he said as he stood up. “Thank you for the tea, professor. Have a good night.” He gave Snape a polite smile before making his way to the exit.

“Don’t forget to leave the cup on your way out.”

“Right,” he mumbled as he set the cup on the nearest side table. “Night.”

“Likewise.”

Walking through the vast hallways of the castle, he found himself deep in thought.

Harry was no stranger to Snape’s feeling toward his mom; his love for her had withstood yearning and loss and everything in between. The strength of those feelings persevered, and Harry knew that those same feelings were responsible for Snape doing everything in his power to keep him safe during his time at Hogwarts.

But while the knowledge of Snape’s loyalty to his mother used to bring him comfort, it now left a bitter taste in its wake.

This feeling made no semblance of sense.

There was no reason for Snape to care for him aside from his loyalty to his mother. Harry was nothing more than a representation of James’ legacy, an unpleasant reminder of a hostile rivalry. But why did that thought feel like an aching bruise?

Just as Harry was rounding the corner, a body crashed into him, toppling him over and knocking the glasses off his face. But before he had a chance to take a good look at who the person was, they had scrambled away and run off in the opposite direction.

“Hey! Who’s there?”

Harry turned his head, squinting at the approaching figure who appeared to be holding a lamp. He didn’t need his glasses to recognize that it was Filch patrolling the halls.

Harry groaned as he rolled over to his hands and knees, trying to feel around the ground for his glasses. Whoever ran into him was small, but the force with which they crashed would no doubt leave bruises on his body come morning.

“Potter? Is that you? Why are you crawling on the floor?”

Before Harry had a chance to answer his glasses were thrust into his hands. He thanked the man as he put them on and slowly stood up, using the wall for support. “I was just on my way to my rooms when somebody literally ran into me.”

“Who was it?”

“I don’t know, I didn’t get a good look at their face.”

Filch grunted, walking a few steps down the hallway, shining his light in the direction the figure had disappeared. “That’s all we need now, more trouble-makers wreaking havoc in the castle.” He turned around and glared at Harry. “Well, what are you standing around for? You best get on your way before you attract more problems.”

Harry hesitated for a moment. “Maybe I can be of some assis-”

“I don’t need your help; it’s probably a rogue student breaking the rules after hours. No, you’ll just let them off without proper punishment if you catch them. Can’t have that happening.” Filch made a shooing motion with his lamp. “Now off you go, I don’t want you causing any more trouble tonight.”

Harry nodded, bidding the man a hasty good night, before taking off in the direction of his rooms.

As Filch had stated, it was highly likely that the runaway person was a student, but it wasn’t a guarantee. Old memories sprang up to the forefront of his mind, reminding him that the castle wasn’t impenetrable. Shaking his head, Harry tried to will away the paranoid feelings. He was making a big deal out of nothing.

All that said, he couldn’t help feeling a sense of relief when he finally found himself safe in the confines of his rooms. With the door firmly shut, Harry leaned back against it and let his head sag forward.

He hadn’t realized just how tense he had become until his muscles started to relax with every exhaled breath. He pushed away from the door, slowly making his way to the bedroom, undoing his robe in the process. Feeling too lazy to hang it up, he haphazardly draped it over the desk chair before changing out of his clothes.

His mind raged on, never allowing him to concentrate on any one thing, forming thoughts halfway before moving on to the next one. That wasn’t to say that he _wanted_ to concentrate on any of his problems, he didn’t. But it would have been nice to not think about being a shit instructor for at least one night, and he didn’t even know how to approach whatever unknown feelings he had experienced during his conversation with Snape.

He walked over to the adjoining bathroom and splashed his face with cold water, hoping it would help clear his mind, even if it were only for a moment. It was going to be a long night, there was no doubt about it.

He felt hesitant using a sleeping draught, having found himself growing too dependent on them in the early post-war years. Hermione had suggested some herbal teas to help calm his mind. Whether they worked or not he wasn’t sure, but at this rate it was better than nothing.

With a sigh, and a brief glance at his exhausted looking reflection in the mirror, he set out to prepare himself a cup of tea, hoping that it would allow him to get at least a couple of hours of rest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still playing around with the next chapter so I'm not going to predict when exactly it's going to be out. I also wanted to say thank you for all the kudos and comments, I really appreciate them.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading. I hope you enjoyed.

**Author's Note:**

> This is a guilty ship of mine that I have had since high school. I have the story pretty well planned out, all that is left is to write it. This is the shortest chapter out of all of them, the next ones should be a little longer. I don't make any promises on how regularly I will post.


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